Free The Secret Ways of Perfume by Cristina Caboni Page B

they started to wilt. Cail decided to replant them in the ground, taking them out of the pot they were grown in. It was a risky move for such a young cross-breed; he knew that. But luckily his unconventional response had strengthened the remaining plant, which, thanks to all his attention, had grown quickly. Now Cail couldn’t wait to see the results of the cross-breeding. It felt as if the many months he’d dedicated to this plant had been reduced to this one moment, for the rose would bloom with the first rays of sunlight.
    The rain finally stopped altogether, and the sky quickly cleared, swept by a cold wind that made Cail shiver. It would be at least another hour before the flower would warm up and open its petals. Cursing this sudden drop in temperature, Cail closed the umbrella.
    â€œI’m sorry, John, we’ll have to be patient for a little bit longer.”
    He looked at the dog, who had come to his side, and then back at the rose. He wouldn’t move until he knew for sure whether it had all been for nothing.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Monique waited for Le Notre’s driver to open the door for her. She could have walked, since the
maison
wasn’t very far from Narcissus, but it was raining again. Alain had kindly offered a car to take her, and she had accepted: she had no intention of arriving soaking wet on what was going to be her last day at work. She settled into the comfort of the cream leather seats, breathing in the smell of leather and luxury. She could get used to this, she thought.
    When they arrived at Narcissus, the driver walked her to the entrance, holding an umbrella. He waited for her to go in, then went back to the car.
    â€œBonjour, Philippe. Monsieur Montier
?
” she asked the manager.
    The man smiled at her. “Mademoiselle, you’re back from Italy! Did you find anything interesting?”
    Philippe Renaud was something of a workaholic but he was a good man, Monique thought, if a bit of a snob. Usually, Monique liked to stay and chat with him, but just then she was nervous. Her contract with La Fougérie was signed: in a few days she would be working for a new
maison
. And Jacques would never forgive her. Monique knew that. Her move to La Fougérie signaled the end of their relationship once and for all.
    â€œYes, an original brief—really does the job, you’ll like it. Now, where’s Jacques?”
    Philippe’s smile lost some of its shine. He pointed at the door behind him. “Monsieur is busy in the laboratory. Do you want me to go and tell him?”
    She should have guessed that Jacques would get straight to work on the perfume. Monique looked at Philippe and shook her head. “No thanks, I’ll do it myself.” She walked away, past Philippe and down a long corridor. When she arrived at the laboratory she didn’t knock, just opened the door gently. She wasn’t dressed properly and didn’t want to contaminate the atmosphere.
    â€œI want to talk to you,” she said.
    Jacques greeted her coolly. “Come in, but not too close. I don’t want your scent to ruin the formula. Anyway, what is that perfume? I’ve never smelled it on you before.” He spoke to her without even turning around.
    Monique looked at him for a moment. She was wearing a new fragrance, a perfume she’d just been given by Alain Le Notre. Theywere launching it on the market soon, he’d told her. It was set to be their key product for the whole of autumn and winter. To Monique, it smelled of new possibilities.
    â€œDon’t you like it?” she asked.
    Jacques didn’t even bother to reply; he had his eyes closed, his nose over a
mouillette.
Monique knew that Jacques cared only about his own interests, and yet she was still hurt. In the end, getting it over with quickly was the only thing to do.
    â€œDon’t worry, I’ve got no intention of coming in,” she said crisply. “I just